


Catbread in the Balance

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [14]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray and Quinlan talk about their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread in the Balance

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Echoes_ and _Mirage_. Also the movies _Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_ and sort of _Easy Rider_  
> Not much of a story, just some stuff that needed to be put together for the next one.  
> 

The federal government didn't pay anywhere near what seven months of a man's life was worth, but it was enough for Quinlan to rent a two bedroom house near the pier and furnish it with decent secondhand stuff. Only the kitchen appliances were taking time to acquire, and Murray gave back the breadbox to take up some of the space. Nick and Cody brought some friends to help build shelves all along one wall of the larger bedroom, with no idea what would fit on them, and then moved the boxes from storage, with no idea what was in them. There was to be a housewarming party on the first Friday after he moved in, and Quinlan put the boxes in a closet for the meantime.

Murray stayed the first night, after keeping out of the way of the carpentry in the bedroom, and helped put things away. The kitchen was more his area, though aside from the food they bought that day, there wasn't much to it.

"I feel so bad now for giving all your things away," he said as he surveyed the bare countertops. "It would have been easy to put more things in storage and then you'd at least have some appliances."

"No way you could have known, kid. And I needed a new microwave anyway. Toaster, too. And the new sofa's a lot more comfortable than the old one."

"Is it?" His limited body mass made such things harder to judge.

"I think so."

"Good. _Westworld_ is on tonight. We should try it out." He picked up a can of tomato soup and turned to put it in the cupboard, reaching so his t-shirt pulled up and exposed a strip of pale skin. Quinlan put his hand over that vulnerable stripe and it turned into a gentle upward caress. Murray shivered, then turned and boosted himself onto the counter. Quinlan stepped closer, stood between his knees and held him, his hands warm on the cool skin of Murray's back. It was safe and comfortable, the way things had been in the beginning, before he died and went away, and they stayed like that for a long time.

***

When _Westworld_ came on at eight, they were on the sofa, recovering from a long day of moving furniture and being subtle. Now that everyone was gone and there was no reason to continue the subtlety, they were both too tired to care. Quinlan sat as he always did, slouched down with his feet up on the old footlocker, whose status had been protected by its usefulness in storing cats, and Murray lay beside him, resting his head on one muscular thigh. It was hard to get the right angle with his glasses on, but he found the result to be worth the effort. Quinlan laid one hand on his throat, feeling the slow and steady beat of his pulse, and wound the other hand loosely in his hair.

"Don't tickle," Murray said when one finger brushed his forehead.

"You need a haircut, Bozinsky. You're starting to look like a damn girl."

"Maybe that's good. If people think I'm a girl, they won't mind so much."

"Have to get a nose job," he said and Murray heard the smile in his voice.

"I'd have to get more than that. Do you ever miss girls, Lieutenant?"

"Miss 'em? Hell, they're all over the place."

"You know what I mean. Pretty faces and breasts and—and not having to use lube every time. Or at least not with all of them. Probably."

"Yeah, that is convenient. And tits are nice, I'll give you that. But it's not worth it."

"Not worth what?"

"All the rest of the bullshit. Having to shave on the weekends, and going to the mall—all the damned shopping. And they're always in the bathroom, and when they're not, they want to talk about your _relationship_."

"Sometimes I want to talk about our relationship," Murray said, only half teasing.

"Yeah, but at least you're a man about it. You wait until the commercials. My ex-wife once turned off a football game, during _playoffs_, that I had _money_ on, to ask why I didn't pay more attention to her."

"Did you say it was because she turned off playoff games?"

"Of course I did. She cried for a fucking week. Now shut up, the movie's back on."

Murray tucked his hand up under his cheek, squeezing the solid thigh as Quinlan went on playing with his hair. He thought he probably wouldn't get it cut right away.

***

When they were in bed that night, Murray curled on his side and Quinlan spooned up against his back, it was the older man who suddenly brought up the subject of their relationship. That had never really happened before, and Murray didn't know whether to be pleased or worried.

"I have to ask you something, kid," he said, so uncertainly that worry took over at once.

"What's that, Lieutenant?"

"I don't want to sound like some woman or something, but why in God's name did you ever pick me?"

"What?"

"Oh, come on. I never treated you decent. I beat up your friends, I harassed you and arrested you every chance I got—I even accused you of murder. And yet you wanted to help me. I wasn't even nice about it, and we still ended up in bed that same day. You defended me, you looked after me in the hospital, and then you took me back after I ran out on you. I never gave you any reason to do any of that."

"Honestly? After a year, you still don't know?"

"Well, I'm not a genius or anything. Come on, kid, I won't ask again."

"I guess I figured if you arrested me, you must have thought there was good reason. Except for the murder thing, but I knew you didn't really believe I did that."

"No, I knew you didn't kill anyone. I was just gonna let you sit in the can while I figured out who did. I wouldn't have let you go down for it, but it still wasn't right. And I never even apologized. How can you fuck somebody who calls you a killer and doesn't even apologize?"

"I can't explain it, Lieutenant. I just felt something that day—like you needed me. When you let me in the house, when you said you didn't hate me, I just—I knew you needed someone. I thought maybe you were pushing me away so hard because you secretly liked me, so I took a chance."

"That's what I don't understand. Why in God's holy name did _you_ like _me_ enough to care? I think I told you once that I wanted to nail you from the first time we met. When the hell did you decide you wanted me?"

"I don't even know anymore. It's just—once I started doing things for you, I just wanted to do more. It felt right somehow. Safe."

"Safe? That's about the last thing I'd have expected to hear."

"Well, you wouldn't go spreading it around and—and getting me into trouble. I knew you'd protect me, even if it was just to protect yourself. And it felt good. Just hanging out, watching TV, having sex on the couch. I liked how you treated me. Like it was no big deal. You turned out to be everything I didn't know I wanted until I had it. I love you. And I know you love me, even if you don't say it very often."

"Yeah? How do you know?" he challenged, teasing just a little.

"Because you show it every day. Coming back here when I was sick was a big sign, but even without that, you do too much for someone you're just screwing around with. Listening to me talk, putting up with my friends, letting me spend the night even when we're not having sex. It has to be love, because you never liked me that much."

"You've got it all figured out, don't you, Bozinsky?"

"Don't I?"

"Yeah. I'm still not saying it makes sense, but when do you ever?"

"No, this time I make perfect sense. It's you that's confused."

Quinlan sighed and ran his hand over Murray's cheek, up to his forehead, brushing back his shaggy hair. Then he returned to the warm center of his chest and wrapped Murray's hand in his.

"Maybe. But you know I'm sorry for letting you sit in jail when I knew you were innocent, right?"

"Lieutenant, even if I still cared about that, and I never did, I'd have called it square the day Christianson arrested me and you kept me from getting raped. You don't owe me any apologies."

"I thought about that a lot when I was away," he said quietly.

"Thought about what?"

"About you being in jail. About what might happen if you got picked up again and I wasn't around. Seems like all I did was worry about someone hurting you."

"Well, no one did. Go to sleep, Lieutenant. You worry too much."

"Nick told me what happened to you back in April," he said very softly, the words a mere breath against the back of Murray's neck. Murray stiffened, his hands tightening on Quinlan's, and when he spoke, it seemed to be with great effort.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You shot an innocent man and a bunch of corrupt cops tried to kill you. I'd say I had plenty to worry about."

"It doesn't matter. You had enough on your mind, and by the time I saw you again, it was all over."

"You should have told me anyway. And I should have been here. It's a lot to go through by yourself."

"But I wasn't by myself. Nick was with me and we got through it. It's over now and I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Just tell me one thing. Did you start carrying your gun again?"

"Yeah. But I haven't pointed it at anyone since. Can we drop it now?"

"Sure." His arm tightened around Murray's chest and he felt the ragged hitching as the skinny man struggled for breath. "I just want to say that I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry for a lot of shit, but most of all I'm sorry for that."

Murray nodded silently, wanting to pull away, wanting to _run_ away, and turned over instead. He pressed his face to Quinlan's chest and inhaled deeply.

"Please don't worry about it, Lieutenant. And don't apologize anymore. Just forget it, please."

Quinlan rubbed his back and said nothing. After a long time, Murray went to sleep.

***

They played it close for the rest of the week, as Mama Jo had suggested. Murray didn't stay the night again, and they only did visible guy-type things together. Nick took them to buy a car that a friend of his was selling, and the four of them had dinner on the boat a couple of times. Quinlan wasn't going back to work until Monday, but he went to the police station nearly every day to sign papers and take care of the little details, while listening for dangerous gossip. A few people asked him how Murray was doing, but not in a way that he took to be a real threat. Bill Hendricks was one of them, and there was only friendly interest in his tone.

The housewarming on Friday was low-key and casual enough. A few people brought useful gifts; a toaster, a blender, a microwave that all the cops went in on together. There was pizza and beer and a baseball game on TV, which a few people had money on. So it was a good time, and Nick and Cody stayed after everyone else left, so it wouldn't be so obvious that Murray stayed as well.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Cody asked no one in particular as they cleaned up the kitchen.

"No, I thought it was fun," Murray said. "Who knew you had so many friends, Lieutenant?"

"I don't think I do. I think they just wanted to see whatever there was to see of my private life before I go back to shutting everyone out again."

"Are you going to do that?" Cody asked, feeling strangely regretful.

"What do you think? Have I ever struck you as the kind of guy who wants friends?"

"No, I can't say that you have."

Murray stopped what he was doing and looked at them both, then fixed his gaze on Quinlan.

"That doesn't apply to everyone, does it?"

"No, kid, not everyone. But most people. I'm not you. I don't need to be buddies with the whole world."

"Neither do I. But do I need my best friends to like each other."

He nodded, not speaking or looking at anyone, and Murray understood. Nick and Cody took their cue from him and let it drop. They were in the inner circle and that meant playing by Quinlan's rules.

"You need a ride home?" Cody asked when the last of the trash was picked up the dishwasher loaded. Murray looked at Quinlan and read something on the impassive face that made him smile and say no. "All right. We'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes, I'll be home in the morning."

"If it's before dawn again, be quiet about it," Nick said, and Murray promised to try. They said goodnight and let themselves out.

"I wonder how Murray does it," Cody said as they got in the car. "Can he read Ted's mind or is there really some expression on his face that we just don't see?"

"I don't know. Probably a little bit of both. I mean, we do it, right?"

"Well, yeah, but we're—different. We've known each other for years."

"Cody, I could read your mind after a week. We were meant to be, and apparently so are they."

"What a thought. I don't know which is scarier—those two being a match made in heaven, or you reading my mind."

"The second one for sure," Nick grinned. "I've decided they make a cute couple."

"Yeah, they kind of do. I'm still getting used to the idea of having Ted in our lives forever, but—I'm getting used to it."

Inside the little house, the couple under discussion was going to bed. Murray wasn't really tired yet; he'd been keeping regular hours the last few days and sleeping more than he needed to. But he could see that wasn't a problem for Quinlan. The older man was worn out and crawled gratefully beneath the covers, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Going to sleep, Lieutenant?"

"What's it look like, genius?" he muttered into his pillow.

"You probably should have sent me home, then, because I'm just going to be restless and bother you all night."

"Doesn't bother me." Which was the closest he was likely to come to saying that he liked having Murray there. That it maybe even helped him sleep better.

"If you say so." He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and after a moment felt Quinlan's hand slide into his. This, like most aspects of their relationship, was something they never talked about. Quinlan liked holding hands, liked being close in non-sexual ways, and Murray gave it to him gladly. He would have liked to make love too, but it wasn't going to happen tonight, and this was good enough. It wasn't long before he heard soft snores in the dark, but the grip on his hand didn't loosen and after a while, he slept.

***

Murray snuck out before dawn and walked home in the chill fog. It wasn't far from Quinlan's house to the pier, less than half a mile, and he enjoyed the quiet solitude. He slipped aboard the boat in the dark, unseen by anyone, and went down to his room without waking his friends.

He was at his computer when he heard them in the galley, starting the coffee and talking about breakfast. He was putting his work aside to join them, but paused when Nick said his name.

"I guess Murray decided not to come home so early after all."

"Did you check his room?" Cody asked.

"No, but unless he came back in the middle of the night, I would have heard him. It's going to be so weird, not having him around."

"Well, he hasn't said he's going anywhere."

"He will. I'd say they're planning on it. That house is too big for Quinlan by himself," Nick said decisively.

"Yeah, so, maybe he starts sleeping over there more often. He'll still work with us, right? It's not going to be like the TechnaTrend thing where he packed up and left altogether. He'd just be moving down the street."

"For now, maybe. But Quinlan's old. He'll want to retire to Florida or Arizona one of these days and Murray will go with him and that'll be that. We'll never see him again."

"Not never," Cody said, without much conviction. "Anyway, you don't know that. We already live in Southern California. He could just as easily decide to stay here. And maybe he doesn't make all the decisions. Maybe Murray will want to stay and his opinion will count for something."

"Maybe. But it seems like Quinlan makes most of the decisions in that relationship, and he's not going to be planning his future around us."

"Well, it's pretty early to be worrying about all that, Nick. Murray hasn't moved out and I haven't heard Ted say anything about retiring. Besides, I've seen Boz get his way a few times. Ted likes to keep him happy."

Murray couldn't listen anymore. He got up and went out to the galley, startling them badly and smiling a little at their guilt.

"Hey, Murray," Nick said, shaky and brave. "When did you get home?"

"A couple hours ago. Guys, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help overhearing what you said. Does the idea of me moving out really upset you that much? I mean, Cody's right. It would just be down the street. I'd still come to work here; I'd see you every day. Anyway, I kind of thought you'd like the privacy."

"Well, yeah, privacy is nice," Cody said slowly. "But we like having you around, too. You're—you're one of us."

"In some ways," Murray agreed. "But I belong with him, too." He poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.

"We know that, Murray. And we're happy for you, really," Nick said. "We're just going to miss you."

"_If_ I move out. You seem to be taking it for granted, but Ted and I, we haven't really talked about it much. We sure don't have any definite plans. And when he talks about the future, it's always right here. I've never heard him say anything about leaving King Harbor." He thought about what Quinlan had said once, about staying there and growing old with him, but that was a special memory and not one that he shared.

"That's a relief," Cody said, smiling honestly and ignoring the fact that Murray had just called his lover _Ted_ in front of them. The ramifications of that level of intimacy would worry him if he thought about it. "I know you can't plan your whole life around us, but we really don't want to see you go."

"I can plan my life around the people I love. And he doesn't have anyone else, either. You know, he called his son when he first came back. I thought it would be wonderful for Teddy to find out his father was still alive, but he didn't care at all. He said the lieutenant should have done them all a favor and stayed dead."

"My god," Cody said, his happy smile gone in an instant. "His _son_ said that?"

"Uh-huh. He didn't tell his ex-wife at all. I know you guys don't love him a whole lot, but you're probably his closest friends. After me, of course, but I'm a different kind of friend. If you like him at all, it's more than most people do." He paused, an expression of guilt crossing his face. "But I shouldn't be telling you this. He wouldn't like it."

"It's okay, Murray. We'll keep it to ourselves," Nick said. "And if you want to live with him, you probably should. It sounds like he needs you more than we do."

"I don't know if he needs that much of me. We're still kind of waiting, seeing how it goes. I just want you to know that I won't—I won't just go away. I love you guys; you're my brothers."

Cody squeezed his shoulder, recovering a little of his smile. Somehow, Murray's overflowing love seemed to balance out Quinlan's desperate unhappiness. It didn't surprise him that his skinny friend could bring so much light to such a dark life.

"We love you, too," Nick said, putting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. It was as simple as that.

***

_Cool Hand Luke_ was on TV that night and Murray picked up Chinese on his way over to Quinlan's. They sat side by side on the faded black sofa, their feet up on the footlocker, and ate from little paper boxes, just as they had so many times. It was comfortable and familiar, and Murray felt perfectly at peace. He was eating orange chicken, extra spicy, and Quinlan had Mongolian beef. Murray sucked a wedge of orange, took a pepper out of the beef, and ate it without breathing.

"What did you do that for?" Quinlan asked. "You'll burn your damn tongue off."

"I like how it mixes," he said and leaned over for a kiss. Quinlan tasted his mouth thoroughly before pushing him away.

"You're right, that is good."

Murray settled back, took a drink from his beer and ate a little more, his slender fingers manipulating the chopsticks in a way that made the other man hard just watching.

"Why do these movies always have sad endings?" Murray asked suddenly. "Luke is the good guy, or at least the protagonist, but he has to die. I hate that."

"Way of the world, kid. People got bored with happily ever after around the time the Brothers Grimm fell off the best sellers list. So, does this mean you don't want to come over tomorrow for _Butch and Sundance_?"

"Oh, no, I love that movie, even if it is sad. It reminds me of Nick and Cody."

"Only you would think that's a good thing, Bozinsky." He took Murray's bottle and drank half of it before handing it back.

"Isn't it?"

Quinlan smiled and shook his head, telling him _yes_ without words. Neither spoke again until the next commercial break.

"You thought any more about staying here? You know, for good?"

"Well, yes, some. I didn't think it was my place to bring it up, but I've thought about it."

"Yeah? So, is that something you might want?" Quinlan was watching the TV rather intently, considering it was showing an ad for kitty litter, and Murray could almost hear his heart beating.

"Yes, I—I think so. If you do."

"Well, it might get annoying, having you underfoot all the time, but I can always send you over to the pier to play with your friends when I get tired of you. That is, if they'll let you go in the first place."

"They will. They don't want to, but they will."

"You sound pretty sure."

"We talked about it this morning. They want me to be happy, Lieutenant, and you make me happy. Besides, I'll see them all the time, anyway. Working cases, hanging out when you're tired of me—maybe we'll even have social visits. You know, barbecues and movies."

"I don't know about movies. I like watching them alone, so I can fuck you during the closing credits."

"I like that, too," he said mildly. "But Nick does grill a nice steak."

"Yeah, he does. We'll go over there, or have them here. It's okay, kid. I know they're important to you."

Murray glanced at him, looked back at his chicken, and then met Quinlan's eyes hopefully.

"You _do_ like them, don't you? A little, at least?"

"I like 'em enough that you don't have to worry. I mean it, they're okay. I know I've been hard on them before, and I've said a lot of shit, but it doesn't matter. They just act like they do because they care so much about you and I—I can't blame them for that." He paused, then said, very quietly, "Anyone who loves you is okay with me."

Murray turned to him and started to say something, but the warning look he received made him reconsider. Then the commercials ended and he was out of time. He finished his beer, put his nearly empty box of chicken on the footlocker and lay down, his head on Quinlan's thigh, turned just enough to see the TV. The prisoners were working up to the egg eating contest and Murray rubbed his stomach, feeling vaguely ill. After a moment, Quinlan set his food aside and rubbed Murray's stomach for him, hand under his shirt, skin to skin.

"You know," Murray said after a moment, "when I watch _Butch and Sundance_, I always turn it off right before the very end. I've only seen that part once."

"Yeah? I feel the same way about _Easy Rider_."

"That's on next weekend. I bet it'll be pretty heavily edited, though. Too much nudity."

"Probably. You want to be moved in by then? We can watch it in bed."

"Sure. If you don't change your mind when you see how much junk I have."

"Maybe you can leave some of it at work."

"Maybe." Then Paul Newman started eating eggs and they stopped talking to watch. Murray thought about all the things the lieutenant had said about dating woman and smiled to himself. The secret was just knowing when to shut up. But that was probably the secret to everything, if he had only known it sooner.

They watched this one all the way to the end, because Murray liked how Luke turned into a legend and was spoken of with respect to the new inmates, and then Quinlan turned it off.

"You, uh, want a ride home, kid?"

"Not really. Not unless you want me to go," he said, shifting onto his back.

"You should stay. And you don't have to sneak out in the morning, either."

"I didn't want the neighbors talking."

Quinlan took Murray's glasses and laid them on the end table, then ran his fingers lightly over the sharp angles of his face. Murray turned more against him, felt Quinlan's erection against his temple and smiled. Quinlan ran his thumb lightly over Murray's lower lip, then slipped it into his mouth, moaning softly as Murray sucked it.

"You really don't care about the neighbors?" he teased as Quinlan's hand slipped down his neck.

"In this neighborhood? They can get their own easy enough without worrying about mine."

"Oh. Good," he whispered in that voice the other man couldn't resist. "That's good."

Suddenly the hand that had been on his throat was sliding over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he sat up and angled his head for a kiss. Murray had a way about him, an ability to dominate even as he submitted, and Quinlan wasn't sure who was in charge as they undressed each other. Even straddling his thighs, bending down to bite and kiss, Murray seemed submissive, and the gentle hesitation sparked the lieutenant's desire in a new way.

He raised his hands to Murray's shoulders, stroking down the lines of his back and gripping his bony hips. Quinlan liked holding him on his lap, thought for a moment of fucking him like that, and then didn't. The tentativeness aroused in him the need to dominate completely and he pushed Murray off, moving with him, and pinning him down. Murray sank easily into total submission, wrapping his legs around the heavier body and groaning beneath the easy thrusts.

Quinlan kissed him slow and deep, tasting spicy oranges as Murray sighed and moaned. It was sweet and sticky, both of them sweating, their leaking cocks pressed together, adding to the excitement while decreasing the friction. But they weren't in a hurry. They had all the time in the world to just make out, gasping and panting against each other's mouths, whispering obscenities mixed with promises of love and devotion. There was time to just feel each other's skin, to measure their levels of desire by body heat and twitching muscle, hands wound together, staring into each other's eyes.

For once, there was time for everything. No one was chasing them and neither had anywhere to go. There was simply nothing more important than humping slowly on the sofa on a Saturday night, like the teenager Quinlan barely remembered being and Murray had never been.

The end was a long time in coming. Murray finished first, his soft brown eyes squeezed shut, and Quinlan told him to open them, to look at him so he could come, and he did.

Afterwards, they showered together and went to bed. Murray didn't have his pajamas, but that wasn't going to be a problem for long. As he curled into Quinlan's arms, he thought about living here, having his things in this house and sleeping here every night, and found that it didn't bother him. He'd always felt a strong sense of belonging on the boat, but he felt it here, too. He could live here and it would be okay.


End file.
